Just My Luck
by french-charlotte
Summary: One-shot. Even blood elves have to face the perils of fatherhood and growing pains of an adolescent.


Hey everyone! This is a fun little one-shot that follows my other two stories _**Treason** _and **_Ann'da_**. While you don't have to read those, it would offer some back story to the faction reference. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

_Three scores of Horde encampments have repositioned five klicks to the northwest. Appropriate actions have been taken. If more activity is reported, will be sending further reconnaissance soldiers and a possible request for aid. _

Placing the concise and short report on his desk, Tharsis ran a tired hand over his face with a sigh. The blood elf commander, having become quite accustomed to receiving such intel from his fellow colleagues, couldn't suppress the small amount of spite at his counterpart. Had it been him in the field, the Horde settlements would have already been raided and recon would've been completed days ago, rather than waiting and observing. Though he was never considered brash and hasty, the middle aged Sin'dorei obtained a reputation for being thorough and brutal on the battlefield, the soldiers in his battalion priding the label Tharsis gave them. Though training could be conducted over a span of days with little rest, and progression on the battlefield was harsh and rapid, the soldiers respected their fearless and determined commander regardless.

Arms crossed tightly in front of his chest, the elf leaned back in his chair with a glance around the room. The library where he resided was looming and open, the bookshelves easily reaching the elevated ceilings. In the middle of the grand library was a long table accented with flawless gold finishing with lush chairs to match. Plush and overstuffed white couches were dispersed through the room, pillows of rich purples and reds strewn on the cushions in a tidy fashion, and delicately carved bookshelves packed neatly with books and scrolls. Several floor to ceiling windows covered a wall, allowing the dying evening Silvermoon City offered to trickle onto the rugged floor. Everything, save for the commander's chaotic and muddled desk, was spotless and organized, not a speck of dust or debris visible. Such a state, however, wasn't uncommon for the house. What was slightly unfamiliar was the uncanny silence and loneliness that enveloped the dwelling.

As if on cue, the loud jarring of a door opening ripped Tharsis from his reverie, his ears perking up at the booming noise slicing the once silent air. The noise was known to the commander, and he couldn't conceal the thought that he'd been waiting for its entrance. Or rather, who'd be eliciting the noise. Pushing the chair back, the elf stood to his feet with resolution as the expected noise of the door slamming shut echoed through the dwelling, the walls slowly absorbing its vibrations. Moving towards the entry of the library, Tharsis pulled back the silks to revel who entered the house.

Standing in the opulent foyer below the arcane chandelier was a much younger elf, a small brown bag strung over one shoulder. Eyeing the other elf, the commander took in his son's appearance with a quick look over. His short blond hair, the same hue as Tharsis', was disheveled and messy, which wasn't quite atypical from its natural spiky state; a sharp contrast to his own pulled back shoulder length hair. Moving his gaze down, the commander inspected the elf's face. Only a young age of twenty-one, a birthday he celebrated a week prior, the elf's features showed it. However, his usually bright and lively green eyes were downcast and fatigue ridden. His whole face looked haggard and tired, the dark circles under his eyes alluding to as much. Finishing his visual inspection, Tharsis eyed the broad sword resting on his son's back. Brought up as a soldier and paladin, the boy was well-versed with protecting himself, despite his meager age.

Leaning against the doorframe to the library, Tharsis watched Deimos slowly walk further into the house, slightly disturbed by the glazed over and distracted look in his son's eye. "Did you have a nice weekend in Stormwind?"

The words seeming to catch the paladin off guard, Deimos snapped his head towards the direction of the voice. Though his eyes gained little bit of livelihood to them, a certain degree of uncertainty and distraction remained; emotions that Tharsis easily spotted despite his son's attempts of concealment. Adjusting the bag on his shoulder, the young elf shifted his weight while he quickly considered an answer. "Yeah."

Narrowing his stare at his son's peculiar and short response, the commander allowed a beat or two to pass while he silently inspected his son. Typically full of energy and vigor, usually to Tharsis' dismay, the elf in front of him appeared completely void of liveliness. The paladin seemed reluctant to make and hold eye contact with the older elf and when he did, his gaze seemed diverted and distant. Priding himself in his ability to read another with ease, Tharsis was slightly vexed as he struggled to pinpoint just what was on his son's mind.

Slowly nodding his head, not daring to take his eyes off his son's downcast and darkened face, Tharsis pushed himself off the doorframe. "Good. Did you eat dinner yet?"

Still not lifting his gaze to meet his father's, Deimos instead began making his way to the winding ramp that led to the second floor; where his bedroom was located. "No."

The daring action of beginning to leave in the midst of a conversation didn't go unnoticed by the commander, nor did the short response that followed. Had it been nearly six months ago, Tharsis would've responded to the paladin's retreat as disrespectful and would've been quick to punish the boy. However, over the past few months and trials both the father and son were forced to endure, their relationship strengthened from the distant and cold bond it used to be. As their relationship used to be strained and bitter, such was the same as Tharsis' parenting style. Though he used to revel in the fearful and terror-filled emotions that he'd induced in his son with his harsh and brutal punishments, the commander found himself stirring away from such rituals. Instead, he carried a silent vow to adopt a more effective and patient attitude in many aspects of his son's life; though he did catch himself at times regressing back to his more rough ideals. As such, Tharsis fully recognized the difficult and trying age that Deimos was in; adolescence. Only the tender age of twenty-one, Sin'dorei didn't become adults until the age of one hundred, leaving the commander to live with the paladin's fickle attitudes and behaviors for the next eight decades.

Opting to take a different angle with his son, Tharsis eyed the retreating elf's form as it disappeared up the ramp. "Dinner's ready, so go put your stuff away and then come downstairs to eat."

Only a small grunt of acknowledgement echoing down the ramp, the commander remained rooted in his place for a second or two while he pondered his son's outlandish behavior. Though his birthday was a week ago, the paladin begged the commander for the privilege of spending a weekend in the human capital with the friends he had that resided there. While not particularly pleased or content with the human and gnome friends his son claimed to be close with, Tharsis couldn't deny their significant contributions of aid in the past few months when placed in a difficult situation. His once deep hatred lingering away to a more numbing uncertainty for the alien races, the older Sin'dorei had come to accept Deimos' need for their companionship. Consequently, Tharsis reluctantly agreed to give the paladin the weekend leave to celebrate his birthday with his acquaintances in Stormwind.

Hearing movement in the upper region of the house, no doubt Deimos beginning to unpack his few belongings he took with him over the past couple days, Tharsis stood stationary in the foyer in silent contemplation. His son's esteem and spirits upon departing for Stormwind were annoyingly cheerful and lighthearted; emotions the paladin typically displayed in anticipation of seeing his friends. Deimos spoke volumes the days leading up to his departure about the activities he had planned to do in Stormwind; most of which consisted of spending time a certain human rogue Tharsis had learned to dislike. While he was naturally distrustful and weary of the human race, the commander held his detest for his son's human friend on a higher pedestal. Laid back, a party seeker, and womanizer, the rogue's sole purpose in life seemed to be dictated on which booze his was drinking and what woman he was sleeping with that night. Such vile ideologies were frowned upon in the conservative and conventional Sin'dorei culture, though it didn't seem to impede Deimos' ability to form a strong friendship with the rogue.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other in thought, Tharsis' line of thinking caused him to become all the more confused. Such excited and animated emotions prior to leaving for the human capital only to return with those of the exact opposite, bewildered the commander all the more. Perhaps the paladin had a falling out with one of his companions? Or maybe it was just merely his adolescent age dictating his rebellious attitude and annoyance at the questioning of a parent? Easily recalling his own mutinous and defiant behaviors when he was Deimos' age, Tharsis was less inclined to believe his son would fall into that role.

Shaking his head in resolution, the commander had a trying time accepting Deimos could so easily disrespect him as effortlessly as he did only second prior when it simply wasn't his son's personality or upbringing. Though he rarely displayed any form of affection for the boy during his raising, Tharsis did instill a deep sense of respect and obedience from him at all times. While slip ups were becoming all the more customary, such occurrences were reserved for more explainable situation, such as after an altercation or frustration stemming from a failed drill. For the current situation, however, it simply couldn't be used as an explanation for the young elf's behavior. It seemed the logical deduction pertained to his friends, an argument being the most likely cause. Heaving a deep sigh and glancing up at the ceiling, Tharsis was resolved to finding the means of such a disruption in the paladin's attitude and bringing an end to it.

* * *

"Shit. I'm so screwed."

Yanking the broad and imposing sword from his back, his hands pulling at the worn leather strap keeping it in place, Deimos threw the blade to his rounded bed in fury. Standing in the middle of his graciously sized bedroom, a small arcane chandelier showering small specks of arcane residue above him, the paladin ran an uneasy hand through his cropped hair. A bed outfitted with a luxurious frostweave comforter and numerous pillows on top sat on one side of the room, the sharpened blade bouncing soundlessly on its surface. A desk elaborately carved from woods rested on the opposite side of the room with a chair pushed neatly into place. Two open windows with billows of silk swaying in the wind made up one of the walls, though the strong enchants on them impeded any outside elements from affecting the room. On the opposite wall were two doorways; one leading to a small closet while the other to a meager sized connected bathroom.

His sweating hands fumbling with the silver clasp on his thick wool cloak, his overheating body protesting at the piece of clothing, Deimos took an uneasy swallow. His mind was racing a mile a second, his inability to undo the clasp enough evidence of his jumpy state. Finally feeling the clasp give into his pulling and yanking, he ungracefully pulled the cloak off, rolled the fabric into a tight ball, and tossed it into the closet behind him. Halting his movements to allow him to take in several deep breaths in an ill-attempt to calm himself, the paladin knew his efforts were in vain. He was merely delaying the inevitable. His hands instantly and automatically going to the bottom of his red shirt, Deimos didn't bother thinking twice when he pulled the article of clothing free from his body. Though the small gusts of winter wind the enchants allowed to pass through the windows elicited small bumps on his skin, he didn't pay it any heed. Just as minutes prior with his father, his mind didn't seem to be listening to reason.

Shaking his head in dismay while he moved towards the connecting bathroom, Deimos felt his face burn with apprehension at himself with his actions towards his father. During the entire duration of the day, the young elf had been reciting the proper greetings and verbal interactions he'd have with the older elf; though he sincerely doubted they'd do any good. The commander had an uncanny ability to read the young elf like a book, which made lying to him all the more trying, if not impossible. It was as if Tharsis knew what was truly going through the paladin's mind, rather than what he longed to portray. As such, Deimos' extensively recited and thought through speech was shot the second he made eye contact with his father. Pulling back the silks that hung in the doorway to his bathroom, Deimos felt his breath begin to hitch in his throat and his heartbeat faster in his chest. He knew his fate would be doomed in the end.

"Deimos!"

His father's calling voice coming from the hallway accompanied with the familiar noise of footsteps fast approaching, Deimos whipped his head around in sheer panic and alarm. His eyes darting around the small enclosed bathroom for the object he sought, the paladin felt small beads of sweat beginning to form on his brow as dread set it; he left his shirt on his bed. Quickly glancing at the bathtub while a small idea formulated in his head, he had a swift plan to quickly turn the water on and claim he was bathing. It would be farfetched and the young elf sincerely doubted it would prevent his father's presence; Tharsis had a small respect for privacy when it came to his son's life. Each intake of breath coming at a more intense and rapid pace, Deimos made up his mind: he'd take his chance at making a run for the shirt.

Quickly pushing the silks back with vigor and determination, Deimos had his mind and body set on reaching his goal, though he simply couldn't distill the panic emotions swelling up in chest. However, his feelings of small and meager courage were stomped down with veracity when he felt a pair of eyes on him upon taking a few steps into his bedroom. The once minuet brave and valiant emotions were reduced to nothing and replaced with even stronger pulses of dread and terror. His feet stopping in their actions as he stood in the middle of the bedroom, his shirt lying innocently on the bed, Deimos reluctantly lifted his eyes to meet his father's imploring and demanding glare.

Lifting a brow, Tharsis crossed his arms over his chest while he eyed his son's bare chest. "Were you going to take a shower before dinner?"

Wetting his lips and attempting to return some moisture to them, Deimos gave a small and unsteady shake of his head. "N-no."

Narrowing his eyes at the small answer, the commander began to take a step towards the paladin as the younger elf slowly took a step back in response; an action that didn't go unnoticed. "There's a report in the library I'd like you to read over and get back to me on. I'd like your opinion on it."

Though the young elf habitually reveled and sought his father's approval, the small responsibility and purpose Tharsis was offering to Deimos didn't seem to make a difference to him; his face still harboring a distant and slightly worried expression. As the commander took a small step towards the bed, the paladin was quick to mirror it with a side step opposite. "Sure. I'll look at it after dinner."

Stopping his movements towards the bed, Tharsis cocked his head to the side while he considered the younger elf. "It has to do with Horde movement in Northrend. I don't exactly trust the battalion stationed out there now. I might deploy the company if the situation doesn't improve."

Crossing his own arms in of his front chest tightly in a small and futile effort to conceal his anxious emotions, Deimos gave a quick nod his head. "Who's the CO?"

Waving his hand in the air and shaking his head, Tharsis turned his attention to the empty desk on the other side of the room. "It doesn't matter. But if we do have to deploy, I'm putting you and Phobos in charge of recon assignment."

Quickly mirroring the older elf's steps towards the desk, Deimos side stepped so as to be sure to keep his front facing Tharsis. Swallowing uneasily, the paladin hesitantly sent a longing glance at the shirt lying on his bed in a mocking fashion. "O-ok. Um… so what do you want us to do exactly?"

Immediately coming to a halt as his hypothesis was confirmed, Tharsis set his jaw in determination as Deimos predictably stopped his walking as well. His arms hanging flaccid at his sides, the commander slowly began to approach his son, the younger elf mirroring the movement by backpedaling. "What happened in Stormwind?"

The abrupt change in subjects causing him to blink several times, Deimos opened and closed his mouth in utter surprise and horror. His feet stumbling a few times as he continued to take small steps backwards from the pursing commander, he offered a feeble shake of his head. "N-nothing."

A small grin going across his features, Tharsis shook his head as he watched Deimos slowly back into the adjacent bathroom. "You can't lie to me, and you know it. Now what happened?"

Slowly recognizing that he was being trapped into the small room, the paladin felt his heart begin to flutter and beat faster. Silently pleading for his body to calm itself, a small voice inside his head told him otherwise; Tharsis knew everything. His father was right; he couldn't lie to him. No matter how much preplanning or reciting he'd done, the commander always saw to it that he'd read the younger elf with ease. It was Deimos' decision, however, how easily he wanted Tharsis to gain the information he sought. Though one way or another the commander would eventually learn what he wanted to.

Coming to a decision, Deimos planted his feet into the tiled floor and stood unmoving, Tharsis reaching him within a couple strides. Standing facing each other in the small room, the bathtub behind the paladin while the sink and vanity were to the side of them, Deimos heaved a deep sigh to try another stab at it while he eyed a small spot on the tile. "Look, I just didn't have the best weekend. I don't really want to talk about it, ok?"

Several beats of silence passed over the room, the only noise coming from pitter-patter of the younger elf's furiously beating heart. He was unsure if the commander would take the lie, though he was somewhat impressed with how believably the fib flowed from his mouth. While it wasn't a complete lie, the later half of the weekend went sour, it was omitting the truth behind his real reason for his anxious behaviors. Perhaps the older elf had fallen for and accepted the lie. Perhaps, Deimos thought with a small flame of excitement and hope, he would be given some ample time to develop a solution to the real issue. Glancing up to meet his father's eyes, the small sliver of optimism was squashed as quickly as his earlier courage.

Instead of holding the trademark firm and stern eye contact, Tharsis' gaze was instead locked on the mirror to his right. His eyes roaming over the commander's stone face, the paladin was unable to distinguish his father's emotions; which only served his body to increase its feelings of panic and alarm. Reluctantly turning his head to follow his father's unyielding gaze, Deimos immediately spotted the destination in the two elves reflection with horror. The world seemed to stop moving, his stomach did flips in protest, and his ears were filled with sounds of the pumping of his blood. His father had laid a trap for him, and he so stupidly fell in it.

Suddenly realizing the precarious situation he was in, Deimos whipped his head back towards the older elf, eager to get the first word in with a small hope of defusing the situation. In reality, however, the younger elf knew it was futile at this point. "Look, _Ann'da_, I can explain-" (**Dad**)

Unexpectedly, a hand flew through the air only to grip the nape of the paladin's neck with a harsh grasp. Wincing at the sharp pain that radiated from the region, Deimos felt a second grip latch onto his left shoulder and throw him to the right. His head coming into slamming contact with the wall, his bare chest pushed up against the wall, Deimos weakly tried to push back against the vice grips on his neck and shoulder. Tharsis, however, wasn't having any of it. Simply increasing his clutch on the younger elf until the fighting desisted, the commander clenched his jaw in anger. His hand on the paladin's neck staying in place, he allowed the other to release the shoulder slowly. Satisfied at his son's momentary acceptance of defeat, Tharsis narrowed his eyes at the object of his fury.

Nearly three inches in width and five inches in height, a tattoo of a phoenix rested on Deimos' shoulder blade. The picture wasn't novel to the commander, as the symbol adorned all of the banners in the blood elf capital. The body of the phoenix was small with two large wings on either side of the bird, rising up over its head. Lifting his free hand to the unmoving body before him, Tharsis softly moved his fingers over the golden bird outlined in deep red. Seeing Deimos' muscles tighten while his fingers grazed the lightly raised ink, the once pale skin tainted a light red in agitation of the new mark, Tharsis' suspicions were confirmed.

Growling in fury, the commander spun the paladin around with velocity and rage, the young elf not seeming to fight against the harsh movements. Immediately making eye contact with his son, Tharsis gripped his shoulders and slammed them back into the wall with more strength than he intended; though it seemed to have the effect he was going for. Sending his eyes down to the floor in an attempt to conceal the pain that pulsed through his back, Deimos didn't try to hide his feelings of defeat and sorrow.

Taking a step in towards the young elf, Tharsis watched him take a heavy swallow. "So this is what you did in Stormwind? You got a tattoo?"

Unsure how to respond, Deimos could only give a few shakes of his head while keeping his eyes fastened downwards. He knew the lecture and lashing would be harsh but he harbored a small hope that it would be quick. The commander was never one to prolong punishments, regardless of their harshness, instead finding use in increasing the severity of said punishments. He'd endured much from the older elf in the past two decades, combating hours of training and brutal punishments that skirted with the laws of abuse, but his father had showed much change in the past few months. More likely to resolve to lectures rather than cruel physical punishment, Deimos was unable to determine Tharsis' reaction to the new tattoo; a notion that made his skin begin to sweat with alarm even more.

Snarling at the silence, Tharsis moved his hands up to the top of the paladin's shoulders and gave a quick and hard slam forward then back, watching with stillness as the back of Deimos' head smashed with the solid surface. The sound of the wall cracking from the abuse mixed with a small moan of pain, though neither defused the commander's rage-filled being. "Answer me!"

His vision fuzzy and uneven, Deimos rapidly blinked in a poor effort to clear the darkness threatening to overcome him. His already flipping stomach longed to release its meager contents on the floor as a strong sense of dizziness and vertigo overtook his senses from the explosion of pain in the back of his head. Though he felt a warmth and wetness slide down the back of his neck, the paladin didn't dare lift a hand to inspect it. The sides of his vision turning dark, he slowly lifted his defeated and crushed eyes to meet his father's angry and livid ones. Wincing slightly at the stern face staring back at him, Deimos tried to keep his mind off the radiating pain from his head, his voice coming out a small whisper. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do it. I don't even want the damn thing."

Watching the young elf send his overwhelmed eyes downcast, Tharsis shook his head in rage. "C'mon Deimos, you can come up with a better excuse than that." Pausing to readjust his grip on his son, Tharsis didn't take notice to the slight sway from him. "Light, I allowed you to keep your ear pierced. I give you an inch and you take a mile!"

Slamming his eyes shut as the yelling voice vibrated through his head painfully, Deimos slowly shook his head, careful not to upset his already dizzy state. He knew he was in a vulnerable and ominous situation, though his numb mind and aching head couldn't seem to quick grasp the severity. His lids were beginning to grow heavy, the concept of sleep becoming all the more pleasing. Cracking his eyes open after a beat or two passed, the paladin couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with the commander. "I wasn't exactly…sober when I got it."

The answer was all it took to push Tharsis over the edge, his vision turning red. One hand leaving the paladin's shoulders, he was quick to replace it on the back of Deimos' neck and squeeze hard. With a harsh and firm thrust to the side, the commander threw the younger elf's body through the doorway of the bathroom, not bothering to watch him crash into the ground with a loud thud. Shaking his head in rage, Tharsis despised the abuse of alcohol, especially from his son at his tender age. While he allowed Deimos to drink wine at dinner and special occasions, such were under his watchful and vigilant eye. Never having exploited his small allowance of the drink while under the commander's roof, Deimos first became drunk when staying in Stormwind many months ago; much to Tharsis' dismay. He only learned about the occurrence recently, which fueled his dislike and loathing for the human capital all the more. Setting his jaw in anger, Tharsis mechanically moved his hand down to the concealed dagger resting on his belt. He didn't intend to completely bring harm to the young elf, but a fitting punishment was called for; even if instilling fear was the extent of it.

A strange sensation on his hand ripped his mind from its reverie and anger-induced state. Brows brought together in confusion, Tharsis slowly lifted his appendage from his waist, the dagger still sheathed on the belt, and gave a curious look over his hand in confusion. His hand warm and wet, the commander rubbed his thumb over his other digits as he eyed the dark red liquid coating his fingers. Quickly moving his eyes down to his waist to inspect where the blood would originate from, Tharsis was instead greeted with no evidence of the crimson liquid on his body, nor did he feel a twinge of pain that would elude as much. Realization dawning on him, Tharsis immediately brought his eyes up to inspect the wall where his son was once plastered up against. Sure enough, a small spider web of cracks spread out from a central region on the wall. Swallowing hard, somewhat hoping to devour the lump of shame and guilt, Tharsis didn't have to strain his eyes to see the spot of blood beginning to drip down the wall.

Darting his gaze towards the bedroom, squinting his eyes to see through the layers of silk separating the bathroom from the bedroom, Tharsis easily spotted Deimos' unmoving and prone body resting on the floor where he threw him only seconds prior. Though his blind rage was slowly ebbing away at the turn of the situation, the commander couldn't deny the still frustrated and irritated emotions at his son. He'd defiled his body with a permanent mark while under the influences of a vile liquid; actions the older elf found stupid and irresponsible. Though a part of him wanted to simply ignore the blood staining the wall and his hand and follow through with his punishment as planned, the greater and more sensible part of him dictated otherwise. Quickly pulling the silks in the doorway to the side, Tharsis was able to gain an unobstructed view of the younger elf.

Lying on his side, Deimos' body was motionless and unmoving, the stillness eliciting a small sense of worry in Tharsis. Running his eyes over the paladin's body, the commander heaved a deep sigh while he took great strides to reach his side. Sparing a quick glance at his still red stained hand, he assumed a crouched position at his son's back, his inquisitive and examining eyes running over the motionless body. A small growl of mixed frustration at himself and the situation, Tharsis easily spotted the bleeding wound on the back of the paladin's head, his once blond hair matted with free flowing blood. Quickly pushing the younger elf on to his back, not bothering to heed to the small moan from the figure at the movement, the commander gave a few fast and hard slaps to the side of his unconscious face. While he had the option of sending for a priest to aid his son, the wound wasn't fatal in anyway. If rousing the paladin was possible, he'd be able to heal it with ease on his own.

Watching with satisfaction when Deimos slowly began to come to, the younger elf's moans of protest at the small assault increasing in volume, Tharsis rolled back on his heels while he waited for full consciousness to fall upon the younger elf. Sure enough, the paltry slaps did their purpose as his closed eyes slowly opened to reveal an unnatural green. Blinking rapidly as awareness slowly seeped into his being, his eyes clouded over with confusion and pain, Deimos slowly turned his head to inspect the elf watching him from his side.

Moving his eyes over Tharsis' blank face, the paladin hesitantly began to push himself up to a sitting position. "What happened? Is my lecture over?"

Not pleased at Deimos' eyes inability to adjust correctly when looking at him, Tharsis placed a hand on the middle of the boy's back to help him up. "You have a concussion. Can you heal it?"

Swaying slightly as a sense of vertigo swept over his body, the hand on his back righting him, Deimos gave a small nod of his head. Not bothering to watch or listen for a response from the commander, the paladin instead immediately began reciting the enchanted words to the holy spell that would offer him respite from the aching wound on his head. Having become more and more trained in the ways of holy spells, Deimos was finding himself being able to complete the healing words with ease. Had it been a year ago, the holy words would have consumed a considerable amount of energy from the paladin; though after extensive training and practice, he found his energy was no longer becoming an issue. Though he prided himself in this, upon telling his father and older cousin, Phobos, who was a fellow paladin, they both had different reactions. The commander, who had his son begin his training as a warrior only to switch to a paladin at a young age, fumed at the enthusiasm and eagerness Deimos showed when explaining his new ability to flawlessly execute multiple holy spells back to back. Phobos, on the other hand, would merely give a knowing smile and grin at the younger paladin's words, though Deimos was left perplexed from the reaction. He knew in only a few months time he would undergo a ritualistic classification from the paladin trainers, where he would be placed into one of the three groups that made up the paladins and continue his training under them.

The final word slipping past his lips, Deimos felt the world right itself as suddenly as the bleeding wound on his head healed flawlessly. Taking a couple deep breaths, the young elf brought an examining hand up to his head, gingerly probing the wet and matted hair in search of the wound; though he thankfully felt nothing in its wake. Turning his head to gaze to the side, he hesitantly met his father's waiting and blank stare, his unreadable expression reminding Deimos the reason for the holy spell in the first place.

Lifting a questioning brow, Tharsis felt somewhat content at the focused eyes that stared back at him. "Did you heal?"

The question wasn't as simple as it seemed, its sole intent holding a much more ominous purpose. While the commander might have been genuinely curious if the once bleeding wound was healed, his questioning wasn't solely to determine his son's wellbeing; he couldn't punish and lecture the paladin in an unconscious or unwell state, and Deimos knew it. Consequently, the young elf was inclined to tell a quick fib to his father in hopes that he would be saved from further punishment. However, as he learned only minutes earlier, such was easier said than done. Sending his defeated gaze down to the ground, Deimos gave a small nod of his in response. Seeing a slight movement in the corner of his eye, he didn't dare move or object as several fingers lightly grazed over the sensitive tattoo on his shoulder. However, as soon as the sensation began, it ended.

Standing to his feet in a fluid motion, Tharsis didn't bother sparing a glance at his son while he moved towards the doorway to the bedroom. "Follow me."

The even and level words bringing about a slight shock, Deimos snapped his head up in surprise at the lack of a stern and severe punishment. Surely his father understood he was healed and at full health; physically speaking at least. Turning his head in the direction of the hallway, the young elf watched in perplexity and amazement as the commander pushed the silks back without a second thought and proceeded to walk down the hall uninterrupted. The two word command finally registering to the astonished elf, Deimos rapidly pulled himself up off the floor and proceeded to follow his father into the hall, falling into a brisk walk to compensate for the distance between the two.

Watching the back of his father's retreating form with confusion and curiosity, Deimos quickly reduced the space between then, easily falling into step behind the taller elf. As they reached the top of the ramp that would lead them to the lower region of the house, the paladin was even more surprised to find them walking past it. If Tharsis wasn't going to finish the punishment and lecture in Deimos' room, he'd most likely want to discuss the matter in the library on the lower level. Brows together in confusion as they passed the ramp, he felt his heart begin to pound harder and faster as Tharsis pushed back the thick and obscuring silks that hung in the doorway to his own chambers. Momentarily pausing in his step just before entering his father bedroom, Deimos was surprised to find the older elf continue his walking unperturbed. Heaving a deep sigh and slowly exhaling the breath, the younger elf mutely hoped to expel some of the ludicrous idea's running through his head.

Reluctantly walking into his father's chambers, the sole room in the house he so rarely entered, Deimos' mind was immediately plagued with childhood memories of the few select times he did dare to enter the premise. His mother passing away when giving birth, the paladin was solely raised by his father, with the occasional help from the commander's friend, Hauldron Brightwing. He had a distant memory of fleeing his own room in the midst of a harsh thunderstorm, surprised at the commander's, albeit reluctant, acceptance of him to sleep in his father's bedroom.

Slowly following his father into the large chambers, Deimos glanced around the room to inspect it. It wasn't very different from his own in terms of posh decorations and furniture, but the size was nearly double his own bedroom, as well as the lavish bed adorned with piles of plush pillows crafted of fine materials. Two large windows welcomed the lingering evening sun to spill on the tiled floor, while a large closet was nestled in the corner of the room. Following in his father's wake, Deimos watched with growing apprehension and nervousness as Tharsis stepped into the connected, large bathroom.

With a wave of his hand the gold crafted sconces began to glow with the use of arcane power as Tharsis opened several drawers in the cabinet of the vanity. "Do you remember getting the tattoo?"

Standing awkwardly in the doorway to the bathroom while he watched with inquisitive eyes as the commander opened and closed several drawers, pulling some objects out only to place them on the marble basin of the sink, Deimos quickly considered a response. He knew, with a defeated and shameful mind, lying was no longer an option. "Not really, no. I just remember there being a dull pain."

Nodding at the response, Tharsis, finally satisfied at his searching, grabbed the small jars and walked right past the waiting paladin. Knowing his son would be quick to follow him, the commander motioned to a small red couch with golden trim and deep purple pillows in the corner. "I figured as much. Sit down."

Knowing full well that not heeding the unyielding order would result in further lecture, Deimos was quick to follow the command. Still perplexed as to when he would receive the full blunt punishment, the young elf raised a brow as Tharsis sat beside him and thrust a small container of red liquid in his face.

Seeing the reluctance and uncertainty dance across the paladin's features, the commander was quick to give the jar a small push into his hands. "Drink this and face the other way."

Moving his questioning gaze from his father's firm face to the light scarlet liquid, Deimos gently wafted the air above the container with uncertainty while moving himself so he sat sideways on the couch, his back to the commander. "What is it?"

Eyeing the gold and red color phoenix permanently inked on the young elf's shoulder with disdain, Tharsis began to open one of the few jars he placed on the couch beside him. "It'll fight any infection you might have gotten from the needle. Light knows how high humans place the importance of hygiene."

Utilizing his self control to not argue at the insult at the human race he befriended, Deimos instead quelled the temptation to voice a retort by tossing his head back and gulping down the mixture. Trying not to allow himself to gag at the bitter and repulsive taste that caused his throat to retch, the young elf felt his eyes beginning to water at the vile liquid. Swallowing continuously in an attempt to force the taste away, he was somewhat pleased to see his efforts work, his throat no longer threatening to heave.

Sitting silent for several beats, Deimos couldn't stop his body from visibly flinching as a cold and wet cloth was placed against his bare shoulder blade. Stiffening his back in discomfort from the tattoo and chill, the paladin looked over his shoulder as best as he could to see Tharsis dabbing a towel on his skin. "What are you doing?"

Not moving his eyes from the flaxen shoulder, Tharsis gave a small sigh, his voice coming out solemn and somber. "Disinfecting your new tattoo. I doubt whoever gave it to you saw fit to do this."

Wincing slightly at sarcastic and cynical voice, Deimos was at a loss of words to respond. In matter of the truth, he hated the permanent ink with probably as much detestation as Tharsis, if not more. While obtaining a tattoo was something he did plan to do at some point in his long life, it simply wasn't on his list of things to do in the near future. Though he was quick to fashion an earring as soon as he was able to, mostly out of spite for Tharsis' loathing for the piercing, the paladin understood a pierced ear was hardly permanent. A tattoo, however, would forever be set in his skin. Raking his mind, he simply couldn't remember what led up to him getting the abhorred new addition to his body, nor could he remember actually picking out the symbol to get. Though he had to admit, he was somewhat comforted knowing the Sin'dorei emblem was at least meaningful. Unfortunately, the comfort was only extended so far, his guilt and shame at getting it quickly overwhelming the relieved feelings.

"Deimos, I've very disappointed in you."

There it was. The stern lecture he was waiting for. Sending his eyes down to inspect the red cushion on the couch in regret, the young elf was unsure how to respond to the stern voice. Feeling the damp cloth lift from his shoulder, he gave a small nod of his head. "Yeah, I know."

Lifting an unseen brow at the nearly whispered and remorseful voice that responded, Tharsis undid the top of another jar in his hands. "I really thought you were more responsible than this. You want me to treat you more mature, but you keep acting like an elfing. Tell me, Deimos, how am I to consider you an adult?"

Though in the past he'd faced painful and excruciating physical punishments from the commander, at the moment the paladin would have gladly opted for those reprimands. His heart sinking deeper into his chest, the young elf gave a sad and poignant shake of his head as he felt a handful of cold jelly be lightly pressed on his shoulder. "You can't."

Gently smoothing the cream over the raised skin and ink, Tharsis moved his gaze up from his handiwork to the silent paladin. Sure enough, his head was down in shame and repentance, the commander's harsh words having the desired effect on the boy. So eager and fervent to gain his father's acceptance for the entirety of his life, Tharsis denied his son the one thing he wanted. It seemed his new approach to parenting definitely had its upside. Heaving a deep sigh, the older elf softly dabbed a dry towel on the tattoo, taking off the excess lotion. "You know, your uncle used to get tattoos all the time."

Lifting his head up in curiosity, the tattooed skin tingling with coldness as the towel was lifted from his shoulder, Deimos slowly shifted his body slightly to gain a better view of the older elf. Though he knew his father had an older brother, the father of his cousin Phobos, Tharsis seldom spoke of his family to the paladin. While the young elf sometimes gained the courage to inquire about his heritage, having knowledge of a lucrative and old family inheritance that both Tharsis and Phobos received, he rarely received such personal information regarding his family members.

"My uncle?" Deimos inquired, his voice shaking with uncertainty.

Gathering the soiled towel and lidded jars in his arms, Tharsis glanced at the hurtful and guilt-ridden eyes watching him. While his insides still burned with a deep and fierce anger at his son's pure stupidity and irresponsibility, he couldn't stop the satisfaction of knowing the paladin was punishing himself possibly harder than the commander. A small smile gracing his lips as his mind was bombarded with memories of his own childhood, Tharsis made his way to the adjacent bathroom. "Yeah. Granted, he was quite older than me but I still remember my parents lecturing him for days. Never did stop him though."

Swallowing a bit of uncertainty as his father disappeared behind the silks hanging in the doorway, unsure if he was meant to follow the commander, the paladin instead resolved himself to simply stand on unsteady feet. "How many did he get?"

Emerging from the bathroom, Tharsis gave his son a quick look over; not missing the insecurity glowing behind his darkened and sorrow-filled gaze. "Probably a dozen or so." Pausing to gesture to the door, the boy reluctantly trudging on the tile in obedience, the commander followed at his heels. "Go get your shirt then meet me downstairs for dinner."

The direct statement ringing through his head as more of an order, Deimos considered strictly adhering to it accordingly. However, a small and nearly silent part of him internally argued otherwise. Tharsis already beginning to make his way down the winding ramp to the lower recesses of the house, the paladin quickly stopped his footsteps towards the safety and security of his bedroom at the end of the hall. "_Ann'da,_ I-I know you probably don't trust me after doing this. But I seriously and full-heartedly didn't intend on getting a…Light, if there was a way to remove it, I'd do it."

Tilting his head to the side, Tharsis considered his beaten son's face critically. "There is a procedure, but legally you're not old enough; the same law that states you're not of age to actually receive a tattoo in Sin'dorei culture. Apparently the humans are different." Stopping to see the boy's defeated spirits crush even further at his stern words, the commander found himself swiftly continuing; a lighter tone overtaking his voice. "But, what's done is done. Be sure to apply lotion to it for the next couple days, or else it'll dry out."

Blinking in shock at his father's atypical and uncharacteristicly easyspirited response, still fully expecting a harsh reprimand and lecture, Deimos shifted his weight on his feet as the older elf began his descent down the ramp. "Well, thanks, I guess… for being understanding."

Unable to stop the cynical and sly laugh that slipped past his mouth and echoed off the walls, Tharsis desisted his footsteps to send a furtive and mocking grin back at the waiting and still awe-struck paladin. "Oh, you're not off the hook, Deimos. Other than being grounded for the next month, you landed yourself extra reports. And I believe Brightwing has some new Farstrider recruits that could use an extra instructor for swordsmanship, or a practice dummy - which ever Brightwing see's fit."

Releasing a tense and defeated sigh, Deimos grudgingly nodded in acceptance, and was sure to keep his voice low beneath his breath: "Just my luck."

* * *

_Fini_


End file.
